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1 The children ran here and there, flinging the hay about, and making themselves very hot, but 
very happy." Page 71. 










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Uniform ivith " Only Five" 
By the same Author, 


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Price Half-a-Crown. 

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XII. HAY DAY .... 







7 6 





Cecil, jauriel, anti (Ella. 



" Hey, my kitten, my kitten, 
And hey, my kitten, my deary ! 
Such a sweet pet as this 
Was neither far nor neary." 

OR many weeks Pussie Western had 
been looking forward to a great treat, 
and now the time had come. Pussie 
had lived for five years in London 
her whole life, in fact, for she was 
but five years old, and had only 
been away from home once or twice, when she went 


to the seaside with her papa and mamma ; but she had 
never been into the country the real country. 

Now, some weeks ago, her mamma had told her that 
they had received an invitation to spend two months 
with her uncle and aunt in Leicestershire, and it was 
to this that Pussie had been looking forward for what 
seemed to the little girl almost a year the time was so 
long ! 

Mr. and Mrs. Sydney, Pussie's uncle and aunt, lived 
in a beautiful house, far away from any town. There 
was a large garden, and a dairy, also a number of cows 
and horses, cocks and hens, and things that Pussie had 
never seen, except in picture books. 

No wonder she was wild with joy at the idea of 
such a visit. 

But above all the delights to which she was look- 
ing forward, one of them was far more enchanting 
than all the rest put together. 

Pussie was an only child ; she had no little brothers 
or sisters to play with her, and she often felt very 
lonely in her nursery, if nurse was busy, and she 
did not know what to play at. She would have 


been so glad of a little sister, and once asked her 
mamma to buy one for her ; but her mamma had 
either forgotten, or did not want another little girl, 
for Pussie was still alone in her nursery. 

Now at Rylands, Mr. Sydney's house, there were 
two children, and this was what Pussie thought so 


Two real, live children ! Oh ! how much nicer they 
would be than dolls ! Dolls cannot talk, one can only 
pretend about them, and it is so stupid to do all the 
talking one's self. 

Sometimes nurse would talk for one of the dolls, but 
she did it so badly, and never said the right things ; but 
two cousins, little children like herself, would be sure to 
know what dolls ought to say. Besides, she would not 
want her dolls so much then, when she could have 
children to play with. 

The idea was so delightful that her nursery seemed 
all the duller after thinking how happy they would be 
at Rylands ; so one day she came to her mamma, and 
asked in a very sad voice, " Mamma, can you tell me 
a nice game for one ? " 


She did not know how it was that her mamma did 
not answer her, except by a kiss ; but next day her 
papa gave her a talking doll, a doll that cried, and 
said "Papa" and "Mamma." Oh! how Pussie loved 
that doll, and what a lot she always had to say to it. 
She used to ask it questions, to which " Mamma " 
was the answer, such as "Who do you love best?" 
"Mamma!" " Who takes care of you?" "Mamma!" 
" Who took you out for a walk this morning ? " 
"Mamma!'' "And who loves you?" " Mamma!" 
After which the doll, whose name was Rosie, was 
kissed and told she was a very good child, and a 
chocolate drop given to her, which was usually eaten 
later by the housemaid. 

Rosie was beautifully dressed, and when Pussie 
heard they were to go to Rylands, she asked if 
she might have a little box for her clothes, and Mrs. 
Western gave her a small trunk for them. It held, 
also, all that a doll was likely to require on a visit, 
even a tooth brush, which Pussie thought was not 
much wanted, as Rosie had no teeth to keep clean. 
Then there was a brush and comb, a sponge and a 



cake of soap, and it was hoped that Rosie would 
be a very clean and tidy doll for the future. 

There was only one drawback to Pussie's pleasure in 
going to Rylands, which was that nurse had not been 
invited to go with them. Mrs. Sydney had only asked 


Pussie with her papa and mamma, and had said that 
" Jane" would do all that she wanted. Pussie felt 
sure "Jane" would not be nearly as nice as nurse, 
however Mrs. Western said nurse was to have a 
holiday, and go to the seaside where her daughter 

So Pussie was a little consoled, though she cried 
the last night before starting, as nurse put her to 
bed, because, she said, it would be two whole months 
before dear nursey would do it again. 

But nurse said that was the very reason why she 
should not cry, that they might both have a pleasant 
recollection of the last time ; so as Pussie soon dried 
her eyes, they became very merry, and the little girl 
went to bed quite happily. 


" Little maid, pretty maid, whither goest thou?" 

EXT morning Pussie was in a state 
of wild excitement, and did more 
work than ten housemaids. She 
cleaned the dolls' houses, and made 
them all tidy, telling the dolls that 
while she was away they must keep 
the houses nice for themselves. 

Then she packed all Rosie's things for the twentieth 
time, and just as she was going to lock the little 
trunk with the key which hung round her neck on 
a red ribbon, she found that the hat Rosie was to 
wear had been put in. So she had to unpack it all 


again, for the hat was at the bottom of the box, after 
which everything went in for the twenty-first time. 

When at last the carriage came to the door Pussie 
was fairly tired out, so that she and Rosie were 
unusually quiet in their corner. Pussie very kindly 
explained to Rosie all that she saw, and the doll 
seemed really grateful, for she stared into her little 
mamma's face with wide - open eyes, as if she were 
listening to every word Pussie said. 

They both grew very tired of the train, for it was 
a long journey to Rylands, but Rosie was very 
good, and did not follow Pussie's example of fidget- 
ing and saying how tired she was every five 
minutes. Then the train shook about so that she 
wondered it did not tumble right over, and at last 
she laid herself full length on one of the seats and 
watched the sky. 

When she next spoke it was to exclaim how dark 
it was, and then Pussie found she had been to sleep, 
and that they were actually stopping at the very 
station where they were to get out. In a few minutes 
she was seated on her papa's lap, in her uncle's carriage, 


and they were rolling along the dark roads towards 

" Were you and Uncle Charlie very happy when 
you were little children, Mamma ? " asked Pussie, 
peering out into the darkness in the hope of seeing 
the house, though they were at least six miles away 
from it at that moment. 

" Yes, indeed we were, Pussie! Uncle Charlie is 
older than I am, and he used to lead me into all 
sorts of mischief. I remember one day we cut all the 
great black dog's hair off, because we thought he would 
be cooler and more comfortable. Unfortunately, the 
poor animal did not like it, and was miserable for 
weeks afterwards. Suppose some one cut off all 
your hair, Pussie ! " 

"But you wouldn't let them," said Pussie, laughing, 
and shaking back her long curls ; " and then they 
couldn't, you know." 

Mrs. Western had to tell many more stories of 
"when she was a little girl," until at length they 
drove through the gates and past the lodge of 


Pussie suddenly began to feel very shy at the idea 
of meeting her little cousins. i 

Chrys (whose real name was -Chrystopher) was 
eight years old, and Pussie knew nothing about 
boys. She hoped he would like her, and that the 
present she had brought for him was what he would 
care about. 

Beatrix, or Trix, as she was always called, was six 
years old, only a year older than Pussie herself, so they 
were sure to be very happy together, and have many 
delightful games. 

While Pussie was wondering what they would be 
like, the carriage stopped before an open door, and 
the next moment she was lifted out by a tall gentle- 
man she felt sure was Uncle Charlie he was so like 
mamma when he smiled. 

He carried her up the steps, and saying, " Here 
is another baby for you, Emma," put her down in 
the hall. 

Then a lady kissed her, and that was Aunt 
Emma, but there were no cousins! Oh, what a 


face of blank disappointment Pussie turned towards 
her mamma, and her lips quivered. 

Mrs. Western quickly drew the child towards her, 
and then asked where Chrys and Trix were. 

" I sent them to bed some time ago," said Aunt 

Emma ; " it is nine o'clock, and I thought this little 
one would be much too tired to care about anything. 
It will be nicer to meet when you are fresh and 
rested in the morning," she said, bending down to 


kiss Pussie, who, however, could not say "Yes," and 
so was silent. 

Then they all went into the dining-room and had 
supper, after which her mamma carried Pussie up to 
her room, and put her to bed. 

It was a strange room, and a strange bed, but a 
side door opened into her mamma s room ; and so, 
feeling quite safe, Pussie fell asleep at once, being 
thoroughly tired out by her long journey, and sitting 
up so late. 

And now, if you wish to know what little Pussie 
is like, you may take a peep at her (which mamma 
and Aunt Emma did) as she lies in her bed fast 

She is a small, slight child, with a very sweet, 
pale face, but it is hoped that a few weeks in the 
country will bring a bright colour into her cheeks. 
Her long fair hair is tumbled over the pillow, and 
her head rests on her small thin hand. Close to her 
lies Rosie, the doll, staring up at the ceiling ' in a 
most wide-awake manner. 

" I hope," said Aunt Emma, as they left the room, 


" that Pussie will grow quite strong and fat while 
she is here. She looks a thorough London child at 
present ; we must try to make a country girl of her, 

And Mrs. Western hoped they would. 



" Cry, baby, cry ! " 

HEN Pussie opened her eyes next 
morning, she was startled to see a- 
little girl, with black eyes, and dark, 
curly, short hair, standing by her 
bedside. But the next moment she 
remembered that she was at Rylands 
now, and this must be her cousin Trix. 

" Oh ! I am so glad you woke up ! " said Trix, 
springing on to the bed ; " I was so afraid that you 
would not wake, you came so very late last night. 
Chrys and I knew when you had come, and he knew 
it first, so he jumped out of bed and told me, and then 



we both listened and heard you and Aunt Katie and 
Uncle Frank arrive; and when you came up to bed 
we peeped, and saw you through the crack of the 

door. Chrys thought you were very small, and called 
you ' Dackie ! ' " 

" But my -name is not ' Dackie/ and I don't like 


it ! I am Catharine Emma, and mamma calls me 

" But you are like a Dackie all the same," said 
Trix, nodding her head ; " because you are so 

"I'm not!" said Pussie, "and I don't know what 
it means ! " 

" It means well ! it means something small 
very small smaller than usual, don't you see ? " 

" No, I don't ! " said Pussie indignantly ; " and I am 
not smaller than usual ! I am just the same size I 
always am, and I am a big girl; papa says so, so 

"Well! / didn't call you 'Dackie/ it was Chrys," 
said Trix soothingly ; " and if he finds out you don't 
like it, he'll do it all the more." 

"Will he? oh! why?" asked Pussie, opening her 
eyes very wide, and staring at Trix. 

" Because he is a boy they always do," answered 
Trix with an air of superior knowledge. " Oh ! how 
I wish I was a boy ! " 

" Do you ? I don't ! Is it nicer to be a boy ? " 


" Oh yes," said Trix, " I should think so ! You 
see boys may climb trees and run and get hot, and 
no one scolds them for it. Then they never wear 
white frocks or sashes, and they have whips and 
fishing-rods, and play at cricket and football, and 
may say 'awfully jolly/ and girls mayn't do any- 

thing r 

" Mayn't they ? " said Pussie aghast ; " I thought they 
might : " and she sat up in bed looking very grave and 

"Well, nothing nice, I mean. Do you know, one 
day I put on an old suit belonging to Chrys that he 
had outgrown, and I went out in the field and played 
cricket with him, and papa did not know me at first, 
but shouted, ' Hullo ! you, sir! Who are you ?' because 
he thought I was some strange boy come in to play. 
Wasn't that fun ! " 

Pussie murmured "yes," though she thought she 
would have liked a quiet game of dolls better. 

The next moment Jane came in to help her to dress, 
and Trix, hearing Chrys's voice in the garden, ran oft" 
to join him. 


When Pussie was dressed, she ran into her 
mamma's room, and they went down together to 
breakfast. Chrys and Trix came rushing in from 
the garden, where they had been having some fun, 
and they sat eating their bread and milk, and whis- 
pering to each other about some plans they had been 
making for that day. 

When breakfast was over they both seized hold 
of Pussie, and after the presents had been given 
and admired carried her off with them into the play- 
room. There Chrys and Trix stowed away the cup 
and ball and doll, which had been Pussie's gifts, 
and I am afraid they neither of them looked at the 
toys again ; Pussie thought once or twice they seemed 
very dusty when she was playing in the room a week or 
two later. 

" Now, sit down there, Dackie," said Chrys, "and 
I will tell you what we are going to do to-day. First, 
Patty that's the dairy-maid, Dackie told me this 
morning that she had got some young chickens, and 
that we may see them. Now, what else shall we 


do ? Oh ! well, we can settle that later. Put on a 
hat, Dackie, and come out with us." 

" Please don't call me ' Dackie,' Chrys ; it's not my 
name, and I don't like it," remonstrated Pussie. 

" Oh ! don't you ? Go and put on your hat, and 
do as you are told. Dackies are always very obedient. 

Pussie fled instantly, and was found by Jane, in 
floods of tears, lying on her bed. She soon learnt 
what was the cause of the child's grief, but could not 
understand why it was so dreadful. 

"/ should not mind being called 'Dackie,' or any- 
thing else, Miss Pussie, and if you mind everything 
Master Chrys says you will be crying all day long. I 
hope you are not a cry-baby." 

But Pussie only sobbed more bitterly at this speech. 
Nurse had never called her a cry-baby, except in play ; 
she was not a baby, she was a big girl of five years old, 
and no one should call her Dackie : she would tell 
papa. Just as she slipped off the bed to carry out 
this intention, Trix came in, and a few kind words 



from her made Pussie all right again. She put on her 
hat, and said she would not mind being called 
" Dackie," only she could not be expected to like it, 
because it was so ugly,, and was not her name. 



" The clocking hen sat on her nest, 

She made it in the hay ; 
And warm and snug beneath her breast 
A dozen white eggs lay." 

RE you two coming ? " shouted Chrys at 
the door. "All right, Dackie; don't be 
cross ! " and he stooped to look into 
Pussie's face, where there were still signs 
of tears. 

When Pussie heard that, she felt she 
had been cross, so she threw her arms round Chrys's 
neck and gave him a hug, to which he submitted with 
an unusually good grace, rather to Trix's surprise ; 
for she was accustomed to a rough " get away!" when 
she tried to caress her brother. 


" Come, we'll go to the farm first," said Chrys ; and 
taking Pussie's hand he ran off, while she had much 
difficulty in keeping up with him. 

They all arrived very much out of breath at the 
farmyard, and found Patty just going to feed the 
chickens. She first called up all the fowls with a 
funny clucking noise that made Pussie laugh very 
much when she heard it ; then she scattered the 
barley for them, and they picked it up as fast as 
they could. Some of the hens were naughty and 
greedy, fighting for their food and pecking any one 
who came near them ; and once two of them stood 
up, ruffling all their feathers and flying over each 
other's heads in a most absurd way : " having a jolly 
pitched battle," Chrys said. 

Pussie hoped they did not hurt each other very 
much, for she could not help laughing at them, they 
looked so funny. 

11 But where are the chicks, Patty ? " asked Chrys, 
when all the grain was eaten, and the fowls began 
to wander off in search of worms and any stray food 
that might come in their way. 


" All right, Master Chrys, you shall see 'em ; but 
you must be very quiet and not frighten the old hens. 
They are in this barn." 

Patty threw open the door, and the children went in 
on tiptoe. 


There were three or four coops on the floor with 
hens under them, and running about were a number 
of little chicks of different sizes and colours, yellow, 
brown, black, and grey. In a corner of the barn stood 
several boxes, with hens sitting inside them, their 
feathers ruffled out on each side, and a very business- 
like look on their faces, as if the whole aim of life 
were to sit in a box as they were then doing. Pussie's 
delight at the chickens knew no bounds, and when 
she found they were not afraid of her, she was speech- 
less with happiness. Patty gave her some food to 
scatter for them, and the chicks all came running up, 
while some of them were so bold as to eat from her 
hand when she held it out to them. 

Pussie thought she could have stayed there all day 
long, but Patty said she must lock the door now, and 
called the children out. 

" But what are these hens doing ? " asked Pussie, 
going towards the boxes with much curiosity. 

" They're sitting, miss." 

''Sitting ! what for?" 

"Sitting on eggs, miss. They sits on the eggs to 


keep 'em warm, and then they hatches into chicks, like 

" Oh ! how delightful ! " cried Pussie ; " I wish I 
could be a hen and sit on eggs," and she gently held 
out her hand to a grey inmate of one of the boxes, 
saying, " Pretty hen ! " 

But the hen did not seem to understand, for it 
suddenly turned, and lifting its feathers in great indig- 
nation gave Pussie a peck with its hard beak, which 
made the little girl withdraw her hand in a great 

Then she followed Patty out, looking very grave. 

They went into another yard, full of pretty-coloured 
bantam fowls, who, though they were very small, were 
very proud and conceited, strutting about as if they 
were the most important creatures in the world as 
doubtless they were in their own eyes. 

" What makes the hens sit on the eggs ? " asked 
Pussie, after a silent contemplation of the ban- 

" They sits because I puts 'em there, miss, and 
because it's their nature to do it," said Patty. 


" Wouldn't the eggs hatch all by themselves, then ? " 
Pussie inquired rather eagerly, 

" Bless you ! no, miss. They wants keeping warm- 
very warm, and so the hen sits on 'em." 

While Chrys and Trix went in search of a parti- 
cular spotted hen which was a great favourite of theirs, 
and consequently hid herself whenever they appeared, 
Pussie stood looking at the bantams, and thinking of 
what Patty had told her about the eggs. She started 
on hearing a voice behind her say 

" I have just found this egg in the woodshed, Patty ; " 
and the cowman gave a lovely little white one into the 
woman's hand. 

Patty saw the child's eyes fixed very wistfully on 
the egg, so she held it out to her. 

" I dare say you'd like it for tea, miss. Will you 
take it in, or shall I send it with t'others ? " 

"Oh! is it for me?" cried Pussie, with a bound of 
delight ; "thank you ! thank you ! Let me take it, 

So the egg was given to her, and she held it with 
an expression of rapture on her face, turning it gently 


round and round as she thought how beautifully white 
it was, and how smooth it felt. 

When Chrys and Trix came back, hot and tired, 
not having found the speckled hen (who was all the 
time watching them from behind several logs of wood, 
where she was busily scratching in some cinders), they 
found Pussie was gone. 

Patty did not know what had become of her, so 
they ran off in search of the truant. But after a hunt 
of nearly half an hour, they came back to the house, 
saying that Pussie had disappeared, and could not be 
found anywhere. 


k " Under the haycock, fast asleep ! " 

UT where was Pussie ? 

As soon as she found herself alone, away 
she ran, clasping the precious egg. She 
paused and looked round, then seeing an 
open door ran in, and found a quantity of 
hay in an outhouse, in some places piled up 
almost to the roof. 

On to this she scrambled, still clutching the egg in 
her hot, trembling, eager little fingers. Then she chose 
a nice, well-hidden place, and there she made a nest 
for herself in the hay. But here a difficulty arose. She 
was not quite sure that she might not be heavier than 


the hen, and if she broke the egg what would Patty 
and every one say ? 

She wondered if the hens leant hard on the eggs, or 
if they only covered them lightly and softly. Anyhow 
she thought she would try, so she sat down in the hay, 
and putting the egg down covered it with a little bit of 
her short frock. 

She heard the other children calling her, but she was 
very anxious to surprise them, so she kept as still as a 
mouse, until their voices died away in the distance. 

Then she lifted her frock and looked at the egg again. 
There it was, white and beautiful as ever, but perfectly 

How could the hens manage it ? 

Pussie sat and pondered the subject well, then she 
thought if she held it in her hands it might get warmer, 
so she took the egg very carefully and cuddled it up, 
while she thought that perhaps the chick would soon 
come out, and then it would be much nicer to have it 
in her hand, as if it were on the ground it might run 
away, and she would lose it. 

"I wonder what hens think about while they are 


sitting in those boxes," murmured Pussie to herself. 
" It must be something very nice, because they looked 
so contented. I should not like to have to sit here 
very long, because I am rather tired of it already. I 
liked one of those liens so much, the brown one, she 
had such a nice face ; but the one that pecked me I did 
not like at all, she was a nasty, cross old thing ! Oh, 
dear ! what can they do to make the time go pleasantly ? 
Of course ! They think and plan about all that they 
mean to do when their eggs are hatched. Eggs ! 
Oh ! I wonder if one egg will hatch all by itself ? 
Perhaps they want to be several together. I'll go to 
Patty no, I won't. I think this egg is sure to hatch, 
it is so lovely ! Well I when the chicken comes out, 
I will go to mamma and show it to her, and ask if I 
may keep it, and if we may take it back to London. 
And then how surprised nursey will be! 'Miss Pussie, 
what on earth is that ? ' ' O nursey, that is my 
chicken. It was an egg and I hatched it.' Oh, how 

delightful it will be! And I'll call it Spot or 

or Brownie if it's brown, or Blackie if it's black, 
or or " 



A few minutes later, any one who had looked behind 
that mound of hay might have seen a little girl curled 
up fast asleep, and in her hands, now loosely clasped 
a small white egg. 

But no one looked, and so Pussie slept on quite 
unconscious that her papa and uncle were hunting 
everywhere in the garden for her, and that her 
mamma, who had just come home from a drive with 
Aunt Emma, was running about, calling in a voice 
of agony, "Pussie! Pussie! My darling, where are 
you ? " 


And all this time little Pussie was dreaming that 
she was the brown hen with the nice face, who, having 
hatched a lovely brood of chickens, was calling them 
to eat a worm she had just found. 

Chrys and Trix, with very grave faces, were sitting 
on the grass, quite tired out with calling and running, 
and Chrys whispered, with a solemn shake of the head, 
that he was very much afraid she had tumbled into 
the duck pond. 


Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, 

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall ; 

All the king's horses and all the king's men 

Cannot put Humpty Dumpty together again. 

AVING looked and shouted for Pussie 
in every place where she could pos- 
sibly have hidden or tumbled in the 
garden, Mr. Western and Mr. Sydney 
went back to the farmyard, and hunted 
for the child there. 
The hay piled round Pussie deadened their voices, 
so that she did not hear, even when the door was 
opened, and the two gentlemen came into the very 
place where she was lying. 


"She cant be here!" said Mr. Western in despair; 
" what on earth could she be doing among this hay ? " 

" Anything! wait a moment, I mean to explore;" 
and Mr. Sydney bounded lightly on to a great mound, 
and gave a sudden half-suppressed exclamation. 

" Come here, Frank, and look for yourself," he said, 
and then Mr. Western scrambled up beside him and 
they both looked at Pussie, who was still sleeping 
soundly. The egg had fallen from her hands and was 
hidden in a fold of her dress, and had grown quite 

Mr. Western quickly remembered that Pussie's 
mamma would be in a dreadful state of mind if she 
did not see her little girl soon, so he went forward 
and touched her. 

" Don't ! I'm hatching ! " murmured Pussie, then, 
rousing, she quickly exclaimed, " Oh ! have I lost it ? 
No ! here it is," and seeing her papa and uncle, and 
having no pocket, she slipped the egg down the low 
neck of her white frock without being noticed. 

Then she jumped up and followed the gentlemen to 
the house. 


She did not give any reason for having hidden in 
the hay till she fell asleep, because she was so anxious 
to keep her egg a secret, and as every one thought she 
could have had no real object in going there, she was 
not questioned. 

The egg inside her dress was in the meantime getting 
quite warm, and though it was very uncomfortable, and 
Pussie was rather afraid it might break, she was in 
hopes that it would soon hatch now that it had got 
so hot. 

She was very hungry at dinner, and glad to get a 
nice helping of roast mutton with rice-milk pudding 
after it, and then Mrs. Sydney gave each of the 
children a piece of cake, telling them they might run 
away and eat it in the garden. 

Now Chrys had a black retriever puppy that had 
been given to him on his last birthday, and he liked 
to let it loose every day after dinner, for it was 
usually chained up outside the stables ; so directly 
his mother gave him his slice of cake, he ran off to 
release his pet. 

Trix and Pussie were walking soberly along, dis- 


cussing the rival merits of seed and plum cake, when 
a black body rushed between them, nearly knocking 
them both over. 

Then smelling the cake in Pussie's hand the dog 
ran after her as she fled away in terror, and thinking 
it was a game, caught hold of her dress. 

Down went Pussie on the grass, away went the 
piece of cake from her hand, and was rapidly devoured 
by Bounce, for that was the puppy's name. 

But oh ! what a shriek Pussie gave as she picked 
herself up, for the egg the precious, lovely, white 
egg was smashed and trickling down her, making 
everything she had on feel cold and sticky. Trix ran 
up and tried to console her, but Pussie was past all 
consolation, and could only sob, "It was hatching ! 
hatching beautifully ! " 

So Trix led her into the house, and there the poor, 
silly little girl poured out all her griefs into her mamma's 

It was a long time before she was comforted, and 
still longer before her mamma could make her under^ 
stand that the egg would never have become a chick 



unless a hen sat on it for twenty-one days, three whole 
weeks ! 

Pussie stopped crying when she heard that, and 


wondered how the hens could, and yet look so contented, 
but they were used to it, she supposed. 

When Uncle Charlie heard the whole story he said 
Pussie should have a pretty little white hen for her 
very own, and that all the eggs it laid should be for 
her breakfast or tea. 

So this made the child quite happy again. 


" Once I saw a little bird, 
Come hop, hop, hop, 
So I cried, ' Little bird, 

Will you stop, stop, stop?'" 

NE morning Pussie came down with a 
very important air, and a little screw 
of paper in her hand. 

When asked what it was, she ran 
away or hid her face, and after break- 
fast, while Chrys and Trix were busy 
over a knife which had something wrong with its 
blade, little Pussie slipped out into the garden all 
by herself. She ran on some way, until she thought 
she was safe from pursuit, and then solemnly opened 
the packet she was still clutching. 


Now, what do you think was inside ? 

I am sure you will never guess, so I must tell you. 
The paper held nothing but a lump of salt ! 

Now, while Pussie had been dressing that morning, 
she had said to Jane 

" O Jane! I do wish I had a bird !" 

And Jane replied, " Why don't you catch one, 
miss ? " 

" Catch one ! " echoed Pussie. " Oh ! could I ? 

II You must put some salt on its tail," said Jane, 
laughing, and not thinking Pussie would believe her. 

u But how can I catch it then ?" demanded Pussie. 

"Oh! easily, miss. You sprinkle a little salt on its 
tail, and then it can't move, so you can easily take hold 
of it." 

" Really ?" asked Pussie, in great delight. 

" Well, miss, you try it, and see." 

" But the salt ? "faltered Pussie. 

" Oh ! I'll get you that," said Jane with unusual 
goodnature, and running down to the kitchen she 
told the joke amid roars of laughter. 


When she came back with the neat little screw of 
paper she told Pussie to be very careful of it, not to 
show it, and above all not to tell any one what she 
was going to do, as then the whole charm would be 

" But, Jane" - said Pussie, stopping suddenly. 

"Well, miss?" 

" You are sure the salt can't hurt the birds ? " 

" Oh ! of course not, miss," said Jane. 

And Pussie was satisfied. 

So this was why the little girl had run out alone, 
and was now sitting on the stump of a tree waiting 
for the birds to come near enough. Poor, silly little 
Pussie ! You must not think her very stupid, for she 
was only five years old, and knew nothing about birds 
or their ways, having always lived in London. 

There she sat very gravely, thinking what a beauti- 
ful big cage she would ask her papa to give her, and 
how delightful it would be to wake up every morning 
in London to the singing of the birds just as she did 

But the birds did not come near Pussie as she sat 



on the stump waiting for them, and at last she thought 
that perhaps it was not a good place just there, so she 
went on a little farther. 

A lark was singing poised up in the air high above 

her head. His wings quivered and his song was 
loud and clear : he seemed a very spirit of joy and 
sunshine ! 


Oh, if Pussie could only get some grains of salt 
to reach him ! She took a pinch out of the paper and 
threw it up in the air, but none touched him, and it was 
only blown back into Pussie's eyes, making them smart 
and water very much. 

When she had wiped them on her handkerchief, 
she looked up again and saw the lark still above her 
head, singing as if there were no such things as little 
girls or lovely cages, but that he had all the world 
to himself. Suddenly the bird closed its wings and 
seemed to drop from the sky to the earth, about a 
dozen yards from where she was standing. Could 
some of the salt have touched his tail after all ? Pussie 
trembled all over with eagerness and anxiety as she 
rushed forward. 

Between where she stood and where the bird had 
dropped was an iron fence which separated the lawn 
from the meadow. 

In a moment Pussie scrambled over it, tearing her 
frock on some unseen spike ; but she did not stop for 
that, and the next moment stood in the field breathless, 
happy, and triumphant. 


But now she had forgotten the exact spot where the 
lark had dropped down, and so a search began. 

Every tuft of grass had to be examined, and it 
seemed at last as if the lark must have really died, 
and that Jane had been mistaken about the salt not 
hurting birds. Pussie was growing quite disheartened, 
and dreadfully afraid she had hurt the poor little thing, 
when, from the middle of the field, up rose the lark 
once more, and began its sweet thrilling song again. 

Pussie ran and jumped and threw salt frantically, 
but with no result, and she was beginning to feel 
quite tired out, when she heard a noise close to her, 
and looked round in a great fright. 


" I had a little cow, to save her, 
I turned her into -the meadow to graze her." 

HEN Pussie turned round to see what 
had made the noise that had so much 
startled her, she gave a cry of terror, 
for standing quite close was a great 
red cow, with long horns, looking 
gravely at the little girl. 
If Pussie had only known how quiet and gentle 
Buttercup was, she would not have been so frightened ; 
but she had never been so close to a cow before, and 
knew nothing about their ways. 

She had heard dreadful stories too of mad bulls, and 
how they tossed people and sometimes killed them, so 


poor Pussie thought at once that she was going to be 
treated in the same way, and threw up her arms, giving 
the most piteous shrieks. 

Buttercup did not understand this at all, for Trix 
often came into the field and fed her with carrots or 
apples, and she had come up expecting a treat. But 
on hearing the screams and seeing Pussie wildly 
tossing her arms, she drew back and shook her head 
in surprise. 

Finding the cow did not immediately run at her, 
Pussie rushed away, and Buttercup thinking there 
must be some carrots in store for her, began to trot 
soberly after the child. 

This was quite enough for Pussie to think she was 
being pursued by a mad bull, so, without looking 
where she was going, she fled on, Buttercup jogging 
after her, when CRASH ! Pussie fell head foremost . into 
a deep ditch. 

Happily the weather had been very dry lately, and 
there was no water, so, though she was scratched and 
bruised, Pussie could lie still and feel herself safe from 
the dreadful cow. 


Buttercup came up and peeped over the edge of the 
ditch, looking at Pussie's prostrate figure with calm 
wonderment, then she began to eat some tall grass 
close by so near that Pussie dared not stir from her 
hiding-place, for fear of being attacked once more by 
the " mad bull ] " 

It was very dull and miserable sitting in the ditch, 
for she could see nothing but the steep sides, and her 
scratches began to hurt her now that she had time to 
think about them ; besides there was a great bruise 
on her elbow, and a bump on her head. Happily her 
face was not scratched, but her frock was sadly torn 
and dirty, her paper of salt was gone, and there was 
no bird to show for it ! 

Now it happened that Trix had thought of feeding 
Buttercup that morning; so after calling Pussie once 
or twice, and at last thinking she must be with her 
mamma, the little girl came out armed with a fine 
bundle of carrots she had begged from the gardener. 

She began calling Buttercup to come and be fed 
when she fancied she heard cries of distress, and 
thought she recognised Pussie's voice. 



Calling to Chrys who was standing near, Trix 
climbed the fence, and after throwing the carrots to 
the cow, went to the rescue, followed by her brother. 

V- - r 

There they discovered poor Pussie, and at once 
helped her out, showing much sympathy for her 
wounds, and not laughing at her terror. 


But when she told them of her adventure with the 
bird, and how she had tried to put salt on its tail, 
Chrys fairly laid down in the field and roared, while 
Trix could hardly stand for laughing. 

Pussie was very much aghast, and when they told 
her she would never have caught the bird, she felt both 
angry and grieved. She thought it was a very unkind 
thing for any one to make fun of a little child who 
believed all that she was told as indeed it was. 

Chrys and Trix were very kind after they had 
recovered from their laughter, and they at once took 
Pussie into the house that her scratches might be 
bathed, and the thorns taken out, for there were 
several sticking deep in her soft baby flesh. 

She was very brave about having them drawn out 
with a needle, and her mamma was so gentle and 
careful not to hurt her more than she could possibly 

" Pussie," said Mr. Sydney, later in the day, when 
she could better bear to be laughed at, and the pain 
had gone away ; " Pussie, this morning you should 


have remembered the story in the ' Nonsense Book' 
about the young lady of Hull." 

" Who was the young lady of Hull ?" asked Pussie, 
" and what did she do ? " 

" Why, don't you know it ? Then I must tell you. 

' There was a young lady of Hull, 
Who was chased by a virulent bull ; 

But she seized on a spade, 

And called out, " Who's afraid?", 
Which distracted that virulent bull.' 

That is what you should have done." 

" What is a villent bull ? " asked Pussie gravely. 
" A ' virulent ' bull is a savage one, I suppose," 
answered Mr. Sydney ; " something very unlike poor 
Buttercup. Why did you not treat her as this brave 
young lady did the bull ? " 

" But how could I, Uncle Charlie, for there was no 
spade. Besides "-she added thoughtfully, "I am not 
a young lady of Hull, but only a little girl ! " 


"I love sixpence, pretty little sixpence." 

OOK here, Pussie !" said Trix, running 
in one morning, " look at these lovely 
new sixpenny pieces ! Three of them ! 
Some one gave them to papa this 
morning, and he said, ' I suppose I 
must give these to the three little 
Kittens ! Was that not funny of him ? " 

" Yes, but who did he mean ? " asked Pussie. 
" Why, us, of course !"' said Trix, laughing; "and'as 
you are called 'Pussie' the name suits us very well. 
But there is your sixpence, and now what shall we 
do with them ? I will just run and give Chrys his, 
and then we will settle how to spend it." 



Pussie turned the little coin over and over in her 
hand, and thought it was much too pretty to spend, 

but that she would give it to her mamma to take 
care of. 


When Trix came back they sat down and thought 
of every possible way of spending sixpence. Trix 
declared she would like a top, or a whip, or a good 
strong knife, or "something useful, you know." 

It seemed to Pussie that she wanted nothing just 
then, so she carried her sixpence to Mrs. Western and 
asked her to keep it for the present. Then the 
children ran races on the lawn till dinner-time. 

Now their grandpapa, old Mr. Sydney, was coming 
to dinner, so best frocks were put on for the occasion, 
and Trix and Pussie had to stand very still while their 
hair was combed and curled. 

Then they came down very demurely hand-in-hand, 
but in a few minutes all shyness had disappeared, the 
best frocks were tumbled just as if they were only 
common ones, and the tidy hair was shaken about 
their eyes, as they both sat on grandpapa's knee with 
his arm round them, crumpling their sashes, for they 
were much too happy to think of such tiresome things 
as clothes. 

At dinner Trix and Pussie sat on each side of Mrs. 
Western, and very merry they were. 


Now there was a dish of stewed cherries on the table, 
and Mrs. Western gave six of them to each of the 
children. As they were the first cherries they had 
eaten that year, Trix and Pussie were very eager to 
count the stones. 

" Aunt Kate ! " exclaimed Trix suddenly, " look 
at this ! Here's an extra cherry and it has got no 

" And, mamma," said Pussie in a low voice, " my 
stone has got no cherry ! " 

" No cherry!" said Mr. Sydney the elder, who had 
overheard. " How is that ? " 

Pussie held up the bare stone on her spoon and 
said, laughing, "It has got no cherry, you see, grand- 

" Then I suppose I must give you another," he 

So Pussie was quite satisfied, and counted her seven 
stones with great delight. 

After dinner Pussie and Trix went out into the garden 
again, while Chrys went to do some carpentering some- 
where with one of the gardeners. 


" Don't you love roses ? " said Pussie, standing on 
tiptoe to smell a beautiful red bud that hung from a 
tall standard tree. " I love them ! They look so happy 
always smiling ! " 

" Roses can't smile," said Trix, who sometimes did not 
understand Pussie's fancies, and thought them rather silly. 
" They are only flowers, you know." 

" Yes, but all flowers smile, I think," said Pussie gravely, 
" because the fairy that lives inside is happy. I like the 
rose fairies, best, they have such soft beds all among the 
leaves, I should think, and then they smell so sweet ! " 

" That's the flower, not the fairies, silly child!" said 
Trix in a patronising tone ; " but I daresay you did not 
know, being so small and living always in London as you 

Pussie did not answer, only nodded her head to the 
rosebud, for she was certain that the flowers smiled at 
her in spite of what Trix said, for she could see them 

" How kind grandpapa is!" she said presently; "I 
should like to give him something, he is so kind ! " "So 
should I," said Trix, "but I have got nothing." 


" And I have only my sixpence," said Pussie gravely. 

" I know ! " said Trix ; " of course ! We will change 
our sixpenny pieces into six pennies, and then we can 
each give one to grandpapa. What a good idea I " 

So they ran into the house ; Mrs. Western gave them 
the two pennies they asked for, and then they went off 
to find grandpapa. 

However when they saw him Trix turned shy and 
would not speak, so Pussie walked up, holding out the 
copper in her hand, and said in a low voice 

" Grandpapa, you are so kind that we want each of us 
to give you a penny." 

Grandpapa kissed and thanked them for their pre- 
sents, and before he went away in the afternoon, he told 
Pussie that he meant to have a hole made through the 
pennies, and to hang them up in his room, at which she 
was very much delighted. 


" Rain, rain, go away ! " 

UCH a horrid wet day ! " grumbled Trix ; 
" what shall we do to amuse ourselves ? 
I wanted so badly to run races with 
Chrys, and then of course it rains directly. 
Oh dear!" 

" Oh dear ! " echoed Pussie, who was 
rocking Rosie in a corner. She did not sigh for the 
same reason as Trix, but because she was wanting to 
have a nice game with the dolls, and Trix did not 
care to play. " Oh dear ! " 

u Can't you play with your cousin, Miss Trix?" said 
Jane, looking up from her work; "she is sitting there 
nursing her doll so pretty, do go and play with her." 


" I hate dolls !" exclaimed Trix. 

" Oh ! " said Pussie, hugging Rosie as if to make up 
for the insult she had received ; " it is very unkind of 
you to say that, Trix." Now Trix had some respect 
for Pussie's feelings though she had none for Rosie's, so 
turning round from the. window where she had been 
watching the rain for the last half hour, she said 

" What do you want to play at ? " 

" Oh ! I don't mind anything," said Pussie, brighten- 
ing directly. 

" Then I'll tell you what we'll do," said Trix decidedly ; 
" we'll have a grand turn out of my Noah's ark." 

" Oh yes, what fun ! " cried Pussie, springing up and 
setting Rosie very suddenly down on a chair. " Where 
is it ? " 

" In the playroom," answered Trix ; and away they 
both ran. 

The Noah's ark was found among a heap of rubbish, 
and soon the children were busily sorting the animals. 
The elephants came first with their long trunks curled 
round, and then the others followed, until the procession 
ended with a grasshopper and a beetle. The birds 


were not varied in their plumage, and there were but 
four, each being painted one colour, black, white, brown, 
and yellow, the dove being painted outside the ark. 

A great many of the animals had lost legs or tails, 
some had no horns and no ears, and one unfortunate 
creature was headless, so it was promptly returned to the 
ark. The creatures that had legs were made to support 
those that had none, and as half the animals were in a 
terribly battered condition, they were nearly all leaning, 
in a very tottering way, against each other. This made 
the procession a curious one, and it looked as if a battle 
royal had been raging in the ark before the children 
came in. 

" Now," said Trix, reviewing them, "what shall we 
do ? Chrys and I used to make them fight, and that is 
how they got so much broken. We had a splendid 
battle one day between an elephant and a grasshopper, 
and the grasshopper broke the elephant's tusk.. I had 
the elephant, and Chrys the grasshopper." 

" But a grasshopper and an elephant could not fight, 
could they? "said Pussie doubtfully. " I have seen 
an elephant in the Zoological Gardens, in London, 


and it was very big, but I never saw any grasshoppers 
here. I thought they were quite small." 

"Oh dear no!" said Trix decidedly. "Why look at 
them together ; " and she placed the two side by side ; 
"you see they are not so very different in size. Besides, 
grasshoppers, I daresay, have grown smaller, you know. 
Perhaps a long time ago, when there were giants, there 
were great big giant grasshoppers too." 

" But if there were giant elephants as well ? " sug- 
gested Pussie. 

" Oh ! I don't know. I suppose there weren't. But 
anyhow we had a lovely fight that day. Just look how 
the elephant's tusk is knocked off, and the grasshopper 
has only one leg, poor thing!" 

The animals, having been all examined, were put back 
into the ark, and crammed in after such a fashion as to 
destroy the few remaining unbroken ones, and the door 
having been shut with great violence, the children went 
to the window to look once more at the rain. 

There it was, falling as fast and as steadily as ever, 
and not heeding the disconsolate little faces that looked 
out at it. 


The drops trickled down the glass, and the tears 
of disappointment and vexation had begun to collect 
in the four eyes that were watching, and would soon 
have trickled down the cheeks like the raindrops, 
when the door flew open and Chrys rushed in quite 

"Aha! I have got something now!" he said in an 
eager whisper. " I found it, and I know he didn't want 
it, besides- he lias gone away." 

" Who ? what ? " asked the little girls. 

" Why, you know that tall gentleman who came 
here the other day Captain Captain something or 
other, I forget his name well, he went out with 
papa to smoke in the summer-house, and while I was 
looking about in there just now for something to do 
I found this ! " and Chrys held up half a cigar. 

Trix and Pussie looked with great disgust at the 
little brown stick, and said with some disappointment, 
"Is that all ? H ow stupid ! " 

" But I'm going to smoke it," said Chrys. 

" Oh ! are you ? Can you ? " cried Trix, getting 
excited in a moment; "that really is fun! Do let 



me light it for you, Chrys ; but where are there 
any matches ? " 

" Here, I've got some/' and Chrys produced a 
box from his pocket. " They belong to Jane, but 

she won't want them till this evening. Now! strike 
the match and let us begin." 

Trix did as she was bid, when, with some difficulty, 


and not without scorching the tip of his nose in the 
flame, Chrys succeeded in lighting the cigar. 

At first he did nothing but cough violently, but 
after a short time he found out the way to prevent 
himself from swallowing the smoke, and then taking 
a little cane from the wall, he began to walk up and 
down the playroom, imitating different gentlemen he 
knew, and puffing away at the cigar. 

" Doesn't he do it well ? " said Trix, in great delight ; 
"that was just like Mr. Mumpy, the cross old gentleman 
who lives near the river. Do it again, Chrys. It is the 
most delightful game ! " 

" No wait a minute not just yet," said Chrys, 
suddenly sitting down on a chair. " This cigar is 
rather strong, and I I think I have smoked enough 
for the present." 

"Why, you have not nearly smoked it all," said 
Trix, "and gentlemen smoke a whole one. It is a 
pity not to finish that little piece." 

So Chrys puffed away until it was almost finished, 
when he turned so white that Trix was frightened 
and flew to his side. 


" It's only my head," said Chrys, getting up, and 
staggering giddily ; " help me to my room, Trix, and 
I will lie down." 

But outside the door stood his father ! 

" What is this extraordinary smell of tobacco, 
Chrys ?" he asked, looking steadily at the boy. 

" It's it's it's me!" said Chrys, growing still paler. 
" I am very sorry, papa. I found a bit of a cigar in 
the summer-house, and I I smoked it." 

" And it has made you very sick," said Mr. Sydney, 
half laughing ; " well, it serves you right, Chrys, and 
is about as good a punishment as you could have. 
Go off to your bed, my boy, and I advise you to 
stay there until I come and see you." 

But Chrys was too giddy to walk, so his father 
took hold of his arm and helped him along. He 
was dreadfully sick, and did not appear again until 
the "next morning. 

This misfortune made Trix and Pussie very grave 
and disinclined to play at any of their games now 
that Chrys was gone, so they went downstairs in 
search of some fresh amusement, and found Mrs. 
Western working in the drawing-room. 


" I'll tell you .a story.'' 

A MM A ! it is raining, and it won I 
stop ! " said Pussie disconsolately, as 
she watched her mother's needle fly- 
ing rapidly in and out of her work. 

''That is very sad, Pussie; but do 
you know that Farmer Grey is watch- 
ing the rain with the greatest delight, and thinking what 
good it will do to his turnips ? " 

"How horrid of Farmer Grey!" said Trix indignantly ; 
4i why should the turnips matter ? Besides they are such 
nasty things I don't like turnips." 

" Perhaps not, but there are many little children who 
have often been thankful to eat turnips, Trix, and not 
cooked either, but raw, just as they come out of the 


ground. A poor woman," continued Mrs. Western, 
"once said to me, ' Many a time I've been thankful to 
see a good boiled swede on the table, when I had six 
children round me to feed, and all hungry/ A swede 
and a loaf of bread was quite a feast to those poor 

" What is a swede ? " asked Pussie. 

"Oh, I know!" said Trix ; " let me tell. They are 
like great big turnips, only they are yellow, and we feed 
cows on them." 

Pussie looked very grave on hearing this, and 
wondered how cows' food would taste, but before she 
had made up her mind on the subject, Trix said 

" Can you think of anything for us to do, Aunt 
Katie ? We are so tired of the rain, and we can't 
play indoors for so very long, and Chrys has made 
himself sick with smoking, and gone to bed. What 
can we do ? " 

" Why, mamma ! " said Pussie in a tone of delight, 
'you can tell us a story. Oh! do, that one about 
the fox ; Trix has never heard it." 

Trix at once began to beg for the story, so Mrs. 
Western consented to tell it, and when they had 


fetched their little chairs, and established themselves 
in front of her, with their eyes eagerly fixed on her 
face, she began as follows : 

" Once upon a time there was a little fox, who lived 
in a house all by herself. She had a beautiful, brown 
fur all over her, and a long handsome tail, called a 
brush ; and her house was made in a hole in the ground. 
There she lived very happily, feasting, I am sorry to 
say, on what did not belong to her, stealing out at 
night and robbing the neighbouring hen-roosts, or more 
often lying in wait for the little rabbits that lived close 
by, as they went to or from their burrows. 

"A neat little person was Mrs. Fox, and every 
morning, after she had washed herself and eaten her 
breakfast, she used to sweep the house, using her tail 
by way of a brush. Then she sat down and cleaned 
herself again, after which she usually went out to find 
her dinner. One day, in the winter, when she had 
been enjoying a very comfortable breakfast off a 
pheasant she had caught the night before, just as she 
was finishing the last bone, she heard a noise far away, 
and stopped to listen. 

" She pricked her ears so as to catch the slightest 


sound, and then thought she heard dogs barking, and 
a horn blowing in the distance. She sat still and 
listened till the sounds seemed to die away; and after 
a time Mrs. Fox ventured out for a walk. 

44 She had not gone very far when, oh! how her 
heart beat, for she heard the same sounds much nearer, 
the trampling of horses, yelping of dogs, and sometimes 
the blowing of a horn ; and the most dreadful thing of 
all was, that they were coming from the direction of 
her house, so that she dared not run home for fear 
of meeting them. 

u Suddenly the whole hunt came in sight ; then away 
went Mrs. Fox as fast as she could run, away went 
the dogs and the horses after her, on and on, until she 
felt as if she must drop, she was so tired. She was, 
however, very much ahead of the dogs, and coming to 
a low wall, she leaped over it, ran a little way, then 
turning round again she came back, carefully choosing 
the path she had taken before, and lay down under 
some bushes, keeping quite still. 

" Up came the hunt, and over went the dogs, and 
the huntsmen followed. No sooner were they gone 
than she sprang once more on to the wall, just where 
she had jumped before, and away she ran on her old 


track all the time, and so got safe home again, while 
the huntsmen were riding about in the field, and the 
dogs were still searching for her. 

" Oh ! how glad she was to find herself once more 
in her comfortable house ; and being very hungry after 
her long run, she ate a young rabbit she had caught 
that morning before breakfast." 

" And did the huntsman ever catch her, Aunt Katie ? " 
asked Trix. 

" No, mamma, no ! " implored Pussie ; " say they did 
not ever catch her." 

" Well, no, they did not, and she lived to a good 
or I am afraid, a bad old age, and then died. I think 
the little rabbits were not very sorry when they heard 
of it." 

" Are there foxes still, mamma ? " 

44 Yes, Pussie, in many parts of England. In the 
hunting counties it is thought a dreadful thing if a fox 
is killed in any way but in a hunt." 

" But it is very wicked to kill foxes, isn't it, mamma ? " 

" It is cruel to hunt them, I am afraid, Pussie, but 
people often do cruel things from not remembering that 
they inflict pain. But I think when the farmers get rid 
of the foxes it cannot be called wicked." 



" But, mamma, it is horrid to kill anything." 

" But if by killing the fox you saved a great many 

chickens that might be stolen away and eaten, what 

would you clo then ? " 


Pussie sighed deeply and replied 
" I don't quite know, but I suppose I should have to 
kill it then." 


I'm going to the meadow to see them a mowing, 
I'm going to help them make hay. " 

j|HE next morning was lovely, the sun 
IA shone brightly, the birds sang and 
everything seemed better and brighter 
for yesterday's rain. 

Even the children were more de- 
lighted than ever with the sun- 
shine and flowers, and more ready to run about 
than usual, having been obliged to keep so quiet 
the day before. 

"We are going to cut the hay to-day, children," 
said Mr. Sydney as they sat at breakfast. 

HA Y DA Y. 77 

In a moment there was a shout of delight, and 
of course, directly they left the dining-room, Chrys, 
Trix, and Pussie rushed away to get their hats. 

In the meadow the men were all hard at work, and 
the grass fell quickly under the steady strokes of 
the scythes. Every now and then one of the men 
would stop for a few minutes to rest, and to sharpen 
his scythe, which made a pleasant noise in the. dis- 

The children ran here and there, pelting each 
other with the hay, flinging it about and making 
themselves very hot but very happy, two things 
which Pussie considered went together ; for one 
day she had told her mamma that she never felt 
cold when she was enjoying herself, though some- 
times she felt rather too warm. 

After a little while Mr. Sydney and Mr. Western 
came out and had a splendid game with the children, 
ending in burying Pussie with the hay, so that 
nothing could be seen of her. 

How they all laughed when she scrambled out 
again ! 


Then Mr. Sydney went to speak to the mowers, 
and Pussie sat down on her papa's knee, while they 
rested after all their fatigues. 

Presently they saw Mr. Sydney returning, hold- 
ing something in his hand, so the children all ran 
off to meet him, and he showed them a young bird 
whose wing was broken. 

It had been found in the long grass by one of 
the men, and Mr. Sydney thought the children might 
like to add it to their pets. 

" But I don't care for it with a broken wing," said 
Chrys; " besides it is only a sparrow, and they are so 
very common, and don't sing." 

"Might/ have it?" asked Pussie eagerly, as Trix 
declared she did not want it any more than her brother; 
" I would try to take care of it." 

" Oh yes ! do give it to Pussie, papa, and she shall 
have the old cage to put it in," said Trix; "that will 
-be really very nice." 

So the sparrow was left in Pussie's hands, and 
she held it very gently, but as she could not carry it 
about Trix offered to go with her to the house, 

HA Y DA Y. 79 

that it might be put into the old cage, and left in 
Jane's care. 

The bird was fed with bread soaked in water, and 
then put in the nursery with Jane, while Pussie and 
Trix returned once more to play in the hay-field. 

The morning passed very happily, and the children 
were quite surprised to find it was dinner time they 
had not done half what they had intended doing. 

The sparrow was again fed, and it was thought to 
look much happier in its cage, Pussie hoping its wing 
did not pain it very much. 

But when they went up again after dinner, the poor 
little bird lay stretched out at the bottom of the cage. 
With a very grave, anxious face, Pussie took it out, 
and carrying it to her mamma, said, while her eyes 
filled with tears 

U O mamma! do look! look at my bird. I think 
it's a little dead" 

" I am afraid it is quite dead, Pussie," said Mrs. 
Western, as she took the sparrow into her hand and 
examined it ; " don't cry, darling, you could not help it, 
for it was probably very ill when the man caught it" 


11 Poor little bird ! oh ! poor little bird ! " sobbed 
Pussie, and she was not comforted, even when her 
mamma promised her a beautiful canary for her very 
own, when they went back to London. 

But at last Pussie dried her tears, after which they 
all went into the hay-field again, and the child soon 
forgot her grief in the delight of seeing Mr. Western 
buried in the hay, just as she had been in the morning. 

Now a very great treat was in store for the children, 
for at five o'clock, James, the footman, came into the 
field with a cloth which he spread under one of the 
trees ; then he took out of a big basket, which he had 
also brought with him, some plates, cups and saucers, 
and all that would be wanted for tea. 

" The old cat wants the three little kittens to have 
tea with him," said Mr. Sydney, laughing, and the 
children immediately jumped upon him, nearly smoth- 
ering him with kisses, exclaiming that he was not an 
"old cat" not at all old, or a cat either, for a cat 
was not nearly as nice as kittens, and he was the very 
nicest person in the world ! " except papa and mamma," 
added Pussie rather gravely. 


The tea was made in the house and brought out all 
hot, then came the bread and butter, and after it a cake, 
and last of all a lovely dish of strawberries, with a jug 
of cream to eat with them. 

Then Mrs. Western and Mrs. Sydney came out, 
and shawls were spread for them to sit on, in fact, it 

was quite like a real picnic, and as Chrys said, they 



might have thought themselves miles away if they had 
not seen the house so plainly in the distance. 

Of course a great many flies got into the cream, but 
they were fished out again, so no one minded that. 

After tea, they made a castle of the hay, Pussie and 
Mr. Western went inside it, and the others besieged 
them. There was a great deal of noise and laughter 
which they all enjoyed, while even the two ladies, who 
were sitting under a tree doing their work, could not 
help watching the fun. 

The children were very tired when they went to 
bed that night, but they all agreed in saying they had 
had a delightful day, and never remembered being so 
happy before in their lives. 


" What are little boys made of, made of, 
What are little boys made of? 

What are little girls made of, made of, 
What are little girls made of?" 

HE children were quite tired of playing 
and running one afternoon, so they 
had seated themselves under a tree on 
the lawn, Chrys with his arms round the 
retriever puppy's neck, Pussie hugging 
Rosie, and Trix with a story book, 
Bounce was struggling hard for his liberty, but Chrys, 
not feeling sure that the clog would ever submit to the 
same process again, seemed determined to make the 
most of the joy while it lasted. 


Pussie whispered many loving words into Rosie's 
ear, while in answer, the doll squeaked out " papa " or 
" mamma," as the case might be, and Trix was buried 
deep in her book. 

She had just landed Jack safely at the top of 
the beanstalk for the second time, when Bounce, by 
some ingenious twist best known to himself, got 
free. Chrys did not pursue him, however, probably 
knowing it would be hopeless to do so ; and after 
sitting with a very grave face for a few minutes, ex- 
claimed, " I know. Won't. it be fun, too ! " 

He then proceeded to tell the little girls his plan. 
Now in Mr. Sydney's house there was a room called, 
for fun, Bluebeard's Chamber. The door was always 
locked, and the children were very curious to know 
what was in it. 

There was a little window looking on to a back 
staircase, but it was filled with ground glass, so they 
could see nothing inside, and though they often stood 
with their eyes at the keyhole for several minutes at 
a time, they did not in the least know what the room 
was like. 


But that morning Chrys had seen his mother take 
a bunch of keys and go to the door of Bluebeard's 
Chamber; then, just as she was putting the key in 
the door, she was called away, and had laid the bunch 
down on a table. 

Now it occurred to Chrys that this would be a most 
excellent opportunity of exploring the unknown room, 
and discovering the mystery or the treasures it con- 

On hearing this, up sprang Pussie and Trix in a 
moment, and away they went to the house, Pussie, cruel 
little mother, leaving Rosie lying on the grass. 

Presently Bounce came back, and finding the coast 
clear, was coming to lie down under the tree and snap 
at the flies (an amusement he dearly loved), when he 
suddenly caught sight of poor Rosie. 

At first Bounce was half afraid, and as fast as he 
came a few steps nearer jumped back with a sharp, 
shrill bark, but at last finding that Rosie did not 
move, he went cautiously up and sniffed at her. A 
few minutes later the gardener saw Bounce returning 
to his kennel, dragging along something white, but as 


he was planting some geraniums at the time, he did 
not think it his business to interfere. 

In the meantime Chrys had found the bunch of keys, 
and the three children had gone in fear and trembling 
to the door of Bluebeard's Chamber. Chrys went first 
with the keys, then Trix, and clinging tightly to her was 

With some difficulty the right key was found, the lock 
turned and a chink of the door opened. Chrys peeped 
in and hastily retreated. 

" Oh ! what is it ? " asked Trix in an awe-struck whis- 
per, while Pussie did not feel at all sure that this was a 
nice game, because she felt so frightened. 

" I saw something something white hanging up in 
there ! " gasped Chrys. 

"Where?" asked Trix in a voice of mingled terror 
and excitement. " Oh ! let me look in ! " More curious 
or more venturesome than her brother, Trix opened 
the door wider and put her head right in ; having done 
that, her body followed, and she disappeared into the 

"Oh, come in, it's lovely in here!" she called; "and 


as for your ' white thing hanging up,' Chrys, it is nothing 
but an old rag bag ! " 

How they all laughed at that ! 

It was a small room with a skylight, and they found 

several tempting-looking cupboards, the contents of which 
they at once ransacked. One. was full of linen, rags 
and pieces of all kinds, another contained Chrys and 
Trix's outgrown frocks and clothes, put away until the 


winter, when they would be given to the poor people for 
their little children. 

But on opening one of the large drawers in a tall chest, 
Trix gave a cry of delight. It was full of the most de- 
lightful things, such as they had never seen before ! 

There were several bright-coloured brocaded dresses, 
caps of all sorts of quaint shapes and sizes, artificial 
flowers, queer-looking shoes with heels and faded rosettes, 
and last of all, several wigs ! 

In a moment everything was on the floor, and each 
child seized what pleased his or her fancy most, and they 
proceeded to dress themselves in the discovered treasures. 

Chrys put on a huge wig (hind part before), wrapped 
a long, many-coloured Indian scarf round him, put a pair 
of white satin sandal shoes over his own thick boots, and 
declared himself "quite ready !" 

Trix had found a white silk petticoat and a rose-col- 
oured bodice covered with pearls ; this she shuffled into 
with some difficulty and a little help from Chrys. On 
her head she put a wonderful pale blue hat with a long 
flame-coloured feather, and then she felt perfectly satis- 
fied with herself. 


Little Pussie had, in the meantime, with great trouble 
and extreme gravity, arrayed herself in an amber satin 
dress with puffed sleeves and a very very long train, 
which rather got in her way. 

By wrinkling up the sleeves, she at last managed to 
get her hands free and could crown her long fair hair 
with a large mob cap, out of which her little face shone 
with placid content and solemnity. 

By lifting up the skirts very high, Trix and Pussie 
just managed to struggle along, and, of course, their first 
thought was to view themselves in Mrs. Sydney's tall 
looking-glass, and so to her room they went. 


" Some in rags, 
Some in jngs, 
And some in velvet gowns." 

F any one could have seen the three 
small figures, almost swallowed up in 
their quaint dresses, turning and twist- 
ing about in front of the looking-glass, 
I am sure they would have thought it 
a most amusing sight. 

But there was no one to look on and 
only themselves to admire, so the children soon began 
to tire of their own raptures. 

" Let us go down and show ourselves," said Chrys 


suddenly, quite forgetting how he had come by his 
borrowed plumes. 

" Oh yes ! " cried Trix eagerly, " what a delightful 
idea! How surprised they will be!" 

So being all agreed, the party sailed down stairs 
very majestically, as the length of the skirts pre- 
vented their moving fast, Chrys kindly waited on 
the ladies and acted as train-bearer to them both. 

There were visitors in the drawing-room, and Mrs. 
Sydney and Mrs. Western were both in earnest con- 
versation, when the door opened and three little 
figures shuffled into the room, Chrys, of course, com- 
ing last, as a fine gentleman should. 

" Dear me ! who can these be ? " exclaimed one 
of the visitors in astonishment, as well she might, 
for the children, horrified at finding themselves in the 
presence of strangers, stood quite still in a row, not 
knowing whether to go forward or back. 

"Pussie!" exclaimed Mrs. Western; "what have 
you got on ! My dear child, come and let me look at 
you," and she began to laugh as her little girl staggered 
forward, trailing the long satin train after her. 


But Mrs. Sydney looked gravely at Chrys and Trix, 
and asked in surprise 

" Where did those things come from, children ? " 

"O mamma! from the Bluebeard's Chamber." 

" Bluebeard's Chamber ! " said one of the visitors, 
"'oh, what a dreadful name! Were you not afraid to 
go into such a room ? " 

Trix looked at her mamma and then at the lady, and 
a smile began to creep over her face as she answered 

" We were frightened at first, and Chrys thought 
he saw something white hanging up but it was only 
an old rag bag " 

The visitors laughed very much at this, but Mrs. 
Sydney only said 

" Now go and sit in that corner, children, I will 
attend to you presently." 

Pussie joined her cousins in their banishment, and 
they sat very soberly waiting for the strangers to go, 
and wondering if they were to be punished for their 
curiosity and meddling. 

At last the ladies went away, and the three little 
culprits came out and showed themselves again. 


Just as they were beginning to explain how it had 
all happened, Mr. Sydney and Mr. Western came in, 
and Mr. Sydney said he was quite frightened at seeing 
such strange figures in his drawing-room. 

The gentlemen laughed a great deal when they 
heard the whole story, but the children were told that 
though it was very amusing, they ought not to have 
touched anything without leave, least of all have taken 
, bunch of keys and unlocked a door they were not 
intended to open. 

They all promised never to do such a thing again, 
after which the dresses were taken off and restored 
to their places by Mrs. Sydney, who was not much 
pleased to find all her neat cupboards turned topsy- 
turvy, and the contents tumbling out on to the floor. 

As Trix was having her hair brushed after remov- 
ing the blue hat with the long feather, Pussie came 
running into the nursery, asking anxiously if she had 
seen Rosie she could not find her anywhere. 

No, Trix had seen nothing of her, but she fancied 
she had been left in the garden. 

Pussie was dashing away to search for her beloved 


doll, when Jane pounced upon her, saying she must 
wait and have her hair brushed as it was so rough. 


" Oh ! but, Jane, I must find Rosie first," cried Pussie 
in great distress. 

" I can't wait, Miss Pussie, so you had better be good 
at once and stand still, or I shall pull your hair, I am 
afraid. You know your doll won't run away, miss." 

Pussie sighed deeply, and she thought Jane was a 
very very long time over each curl, until at last she 
began to get cross and think she did it on purpose. 

This made her fidget about, and Jane grew impatient, 
until in the end the tears were streaming down Pussies 

Trix had long ago left the room in search of Rosie, 
and now steps were heard coming back, and Chrys came 
in followed by his sister, both looking very sorry. 

The moment Pussie saw them she jerked her head 
away from the comb, and darting forward asked eagerly, 

" Oh, have you found her ? " 

"O Pussie! we are so sorry!" said Trix, ''and 
Chrys is quite miserable because he says you may 
think it was his fault ; but indeed it is not ! " 


" WHAT ?" shrieked Pussie. 

" This ! " and a heap of rags was handed to poor Pussie, 
being all Bounce had left of her much-loved Rosie. 

Chrys explained that he had suddenly remembered 
never having chained up the dog, and on going to the 
kennel found him still worrying the unfortunate remains 
of the doll. 

Pussie on hearing this, and seeing the mangled body 
(for the wax head, arms, and legs had been devoured 
by the voracious Bounce), gave a cry, flung herself 
down on the floor, hiding her face, and refusing to be 

Poor Chrys, very miserable, stood watching her with 
his eyes full of tears, and as Trix began to cry for sym- 
pathy, Jane thought she had better fetch Mrs. Western. 

It was a dreadful grief to Pussie, and she cried most 
bitterly. She had always loved her doll, because it 
had taken the place of the much-wished-for sister ; 
and now, it was not only spoilt and broken, but it had 
been half eaten by a horrible dog, and Pussie shuddered 
to think how dreadful it must have been, and how much 
poor Rosie must have suffered. 


, Mrs. Western took the child away to her own room 
and talked to her very tenderly, saying how sorry she 
was for the misfortune, but that it was not right to 
grieve so much about it, and another doll could be 
found very like the unlucky Rosie. 

" But it won't be Rosie!" sobbed Pussie, "and it was 
Rosie I loved, and I am sure I shall never, never, NEVER 
love any other doll half as much ! " 

" I am very sorry indeed for you, Pussie, and so is 
every one, and poor Chrys is quite wretched because 
Bounce is his dog and he ought to have chained him 

" Oh, I know it was not Chrys," Pussie murmured, 
"he could not help it, of course." 

" And you should not have left her lying on the grass, 
my darling/' added Mrs. Western ; " if you had not 
forgotten her, she would never have been touched by 

" Yes, I know ! " said Pussie, with a fresh burst of 
tears, and clinging still closer to her mother ; " and 
that's why I'm crying because because because she 

must have thought me so unkind ! " 



While Mrs. Western was trying to comfort Pussie, 
Chrys had found his father and told him of the disaster, 
saying he wished Bounce to be beaten for touching 
what he ought not, and destroying what was not his. 

"Hullo!" said Mr. Sydney, laughing; "suppose we 
had carried out that idea earlier in the afternoon, when 
certain children, who ought to have known better, were 
found to have been pulling about and meddling with 
what did not belong to them ? No, my dear boy," 
continued his father more gravely, " I cannot allow 
Bounce to be beaten. How can you expect a puppy of 
nine months old to have more sense than you have at 
eight years. While you were in mischief in one place 
he was in mischief in another. I am, however, very 
sorry that poor Pussie has been the sufferer, as she 
only followed your lead. We must console her as best 
we can." 


*' Girls and boys come out to play. 

Come with a whoop, come with a call, 
Come with good will or come not at all." 

Pussie reappeared she looked 
very sad, her eyes were red, and 
the least thing made them fill with 

Every one was most kind, and poor 
Rosie's remains were hidden away 
that the sight of them might not renew her grief. 
The children retired to the playroom to discuss what 
was to be done, where Chrys had a happy inspiration, 
and suggested burying her. 

" You see, everything that dies is either eaten 

ioo ONL Y FIVE. 

or buried," he argued, "and so as Rosie can't be 

" She was!" interrupted Pussie, with a fresh burst 
of tears ; "she was eaten by that horrid Bounce." 

"Yes, but oh! don't cry so, Dackie, dear! I 
mean eaten to be of use and as that can't be done, 
she ouorht to be buried." 


"Ought she? really?" asked Pussie with widely 
opened eyes, for Chrys spoke with authority on the 

" Of course she ought ! She must be buried, and 
we will liave a grand funeral this afternoon. Trix 
will give us an old box to put her in, and the grave 
shall be in my garden." 

" No, in mine," said Trix, " because, you know, you 
never cared for Rosie and I did." 

" You didn't care much, and as I thought of the 
plan first, she must be buried in my garden. Shan't 
she, Dackie ? " 

" No, Pussie, make him bury her in mine ! " 

" Very well, then, I won't bury her at all," said 
Chrys, walking off. 



On hearing this Pussie began to sob almost as 
bitterly as before, and was only consoled by Chrys 
returning with the promise that he would not be 
cross, but bury Rosie wherever she liked, and Pussie, 

afraid of his being- again offended, answered that she 

o o 

wished it to be in his garden. 

On hearing this Chrys looked radiant, but Trix 
was very indignant, and said she should not come, 

102 ONL Y FIVE. 

so Chrys replied that they would not want her, and 
Pussie looked very distressed for them both. 

A box was found for the purpose by a kind house- 
maid, and the doll placed inside ; a grave was dug 
by one of the men in Chrys's little garden ; after 
which a procession formed of Chrys and Pussie, 
who solemnly carried out the box, and it was buried 
in the hole prepared. 

Pussie shed a great many tears during this cere- 
mony, more especially as she saw Trix walking sulkily 
in the distance. When it was all over Chrys was 
obliged to go indoors to do some lessons with his 
father, and as Trix fled whenever Pussie came near 
her, the sorrowful little girl was forced to seek her 
mother for companionship, and told her all her woes. 

Mrs. Western comforted her, and told her some 
pretty stories, while Mrs. Sydney (who having been 
at work in the room had heard Pussie's fresh griefs) 
went out to find Trix. She discovered her at last 
crying bitterly in the summer-house, all among the 
earwigs and the cobwebs ; a most forlorn little girl 
indeed ! 


Very soon Mrs. Sydney made her feel how silly 
she had been, and at last said, " You see, Trix, that 
you and Chrys have both, through mistaken kind- 
ness, perhaps, and with the desire of showing that 
you loved Pussie and will do all you can to please 
and console her, made the poor child quite miserable 
by quarrelling about which of you should please her 
most. Now, though it is very pleasant to do a kind- 
ness for others, still we must not always expect to 
be first, as that is selfish and shows that the kindness 
is not really from the heart, but done to gratify our 
own vanity." 

" Will Pussie think me very unkind ? " murmured 
Trix ; " I do so badly want to do something that will 
please her, because / am really her friend, not Chrys, and 
they ought to have let me bury the doll in my garden, 
mamma. It really was unkind of them if you only knew." 

" I am afraid, Trix, that your wish kind though it 
sounds^-is a selfish one. You were feeling vexed be- 
cause Chrys had thought of a plan to please Pussie first ; 
and then, to show your wish to be kind, you quarrel with 
them. Was there nothing else you could think of, that 


would.have done as well? If you had come to me, in 
the -first instance, I might have helped you before you 
had lost your temper and made yourself and Pussie so 

" O mamma ! will you help me now ?'" 

".Yes, I will do what I can." 

" Then do try to think of something I can do to show 
Pussie I am really sorry about Rosie, and sorry I so 
often laughed at dolls and at Pussie for liking to play so 
much with them, I can think of nothing !" 
- ''Take me to see this grave," said Mrs. Sydney, and 
Trix led her to the spot. 

There it was, a little brown lump of earth, sticking up 
in the middle of Chrys's garden. When Mrs. Sydney 
saw it,^she -smiled -and nodded, and Trix felt sure she 
had thought of some -very, nice plan. 

An hour later, Trix came dancing into the drawing- 
room, then she went up to Pussie and said 

"O Pussie dear I I am so sorry I was cross and dis- 
agreeable. I wanted to be kind, and it was so difficult 
to do- anything for you. Will you kiss me? " 
: Pussie instantly lifted a beaming face, and they hugged 



each other for several minutes, while Pussie began to 
feel happier than she had done since Rosie's accident. 

" And now oh ! please come out with me," said Trix, 
all quivering with eagerness, and when Pussie went she 
found that Trix was leading her to Rosie's grave. 

But it was no longer a little brown lump. A small 
basket-work fence, made of white willows, went round 
it instead of a railing, and the earth was neatly turfed 
over, while a few flowers blossomed on a tiny round bed 

1 06 ONLY FIVE. 

in the centre, and on a piece of wood at the head, the 
words were neatly painted, "HERE LIES PUSSIE'S DOLL, 


" O Trix ! how pretty ! How very good of you ! " 
cried Pussie, clapping her hands ; " what a lovely little 
fence, and it all looks so nice. Oh ! thank you ever so 
much ! " 

" Did Trix do that ? " asked Chrys, coming up at that 
moment ; " oh, I wish I had thought of it." 

" No, Chrys," said his mother, who was behind him, 
but whose presence none of the children had noticed ; 
"you must not grudge your sister her share in the 

" I am sure you are both very very kind ! " said Pussie, 
smiling first on one and then on the other impartially; 
"and I love you a very great deal." 

So with this Chrys and Trix were satisfied. 


" Home again, home again, jiggity jig." 

USSIE thought it very hard that when she 
was enjoying herself the time seemed to 
go so much faster, so that those two 
happy months at Rylands slipped away 
quicker than any in her life. 

When she was unhappy the time was 
very long, and the minutes seemed to creep so slowly, 
but since she had been in the country they had flown, 
and it was with a very sad face that she prepared to pack 
up all her toys once more. 

She had Trix to help her now, but how lonely it would 
be in London, with no one to enjoy the unpacking, and 


no one to play with, or help to arrange the toys in their 

Rosie, her old companion, was gone, and it was very- 
sad folding up her dresses and wondering what her suc- 
cessor would be like for Mr. Western had promised to 
take Pussie to a large doll shop in London, and that she 
should choose the prettiest one that could be found. 

" I shall write to you," said Trix, sitting on the floor 
by the doll's trunk, three days before Pussie's departure. 
" Will you write too ? " 

"Oh! I wish I could!" lamented Pussie, "but I can't. 
You see, I can only print a little, and do pot-hooks and 
hangers in my copy-book/' 

"What a pity! But you will learn, won't you ?" 

"Oh yes, as fast as I can. How nice it will be, 
writing and getting letters from each other ! What a lot 
we shall say ! " 

But a great surprise was in store for the children, for 
the next day Mrs. Western said she had invited Trix 
to spend a month with Pussie in London. 

At the end of the month Mr. and Mrs. Sydney w$re 
coming to live in a, house close by, so that Trix and 



Pussie should have a governess and do their lessons 
together, while Chrys was getting such a big boy that 
he was very soon to go to school. 

Chrys gave himself great airs on hearing what was 
to become of him, as his ambition had always been to 


be a schoolboy, and play games with other boys. He 
had some time ago given up playing cricket with his 
sister because it was " so slow." 

. Trix and Pussie's raptures can only be imagined, not 
described. They .nearly drove Jane wild, and Mrs. 

i io ONLY FIVE. 

Western looked quite pleased when she saw Pussie 
no longer pale and thin dancing and screaming with 
delight, and making quite as much noise as Trix in her 

How the little girls chattered about everything they 
meant to do and see, and to a country child like Trix, 
a long visit to London seemed as great a treat as 
coming to Rylands had been to Pussie. 

There were no more tears or lamentations heard now, 
the children laughed from morning till night, and Pussie 
was even heard laughing in her sleep, which was very 

The day before they left Rylands Pussie's white 
hen had been particularly confided to Patty's care, with 
many hopes that it would not be killed or hurt, and the 
kind woman promised she would look after it, hoping 
that Pussie would come and see it next summer a hope 
most sincerely echoed by Pussie. 

Trix was rather grave on the morning of her journey, 
when she remembered that it would be a whole month 
before she would see her dear papa and mamma again. 
But Mrs. Sydney assured her that the time would pass 


only too quickly when once she was in London, and a 
month was not such a very long time after all. 

Pussie looked so dismayed when she saw the tears 
in Trix's eyes that her cousin could only laugh and wipe 
them away as quickly as possible, after which Trix 
very soon recovered her usual spirits and the breakfast 
was a very merry, noisy meal. 

Two very happy faces looked out of the carriage 
window, waving- their handkerchiefs as long 1 as the 

o o 

house was in sight ; and two very tired little people 
were put to bed by kind old nurse that night in London. 

" Are you glad to be at home again, my pet?" asked 
nurse, as she tucked Pussie up, and kissed her. 

" Oh yes, nursey, I really am ! Only it was a lovely 
visit, and the country is so nice that I think if I had 
papa and mamma and you and Trix and "- 

" Hush ! " said nurse, " you must go to sleep now." 


Little CoUSinS ', or, Georgia's Visit to Lotty. 

With Illustrations by T. PYM. Square, 3/6 

Victoria BeSS ; or, The Ups and Downs of a Doll's Life. 

With Illustrations by T. PYM. Square, cloth extra, 3/6 
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abund.mce of gentle pathos." Literary IVorld. 

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With Fifty Illustrations by W. J. PETHERICK. Small 8vo, 3/6 

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; or, Only a Little Girl. 

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. m A Funny Little Couple. 

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the Terrier : His Life and Adventures. 

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Little Folks in Feathers and Fur, and others in Neither. 

By OLIVE THORNE. With many Illustrations. 







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First Series, 5/ ; Second Series, 5/ ; or Complete in One Volume, 9/. 


'jtf attoentures in t&e Doll Country 


5s. cloth extra. 



attractive volume, with 71 Pym's charming illustrations, will 
form a delightful present for our little girls, who will long remember and talk 
about " Ethel 's Visit" 


Stories for 

Marion Seatterthwaite. 

A Story of Work. By MAGGIE SYMINGTON. Crown 8vo. 6s. 

True to the End. 

A Story of a Sister's Love. By Rev. 
Dr. EDERSHEIM. New Edition. Illus- 
trated. 3s. 6d. 

"An interesting story from the pen of an 
old favourite." The Rock. 

Christine ; 

Or, The Bible Girl. By S. PUNOT, 
Author of "Tim's Little Mother." 
2s. 6d. 

"We scarcely know whether to admire 
most the skilful ease of the writer, or the 
genuine wisdom and beauty of the religious 
teaching." Christian, World. 

Tim's Little Mother. 

By S. PUNOT. With Illustrations. 
3s. 6d. 

"An affecting, unaffected story of London 
life." The Christian. 

Soldiers of the Cross. 

A Story of Flamborough Head- 
By the Author of "The Young 
Armour Bearer." Small 8vo. 
2s. 6d. 

\ Flower Stories for Little 

By ISALIND. Small 8vo. Illus- 
trated. 2s. 6d. 

" Written with exquisite taste. To 
all who are interested in the ' Flower 
Mission/ it will be peculiarly pleas- 
ing and profitable." 1 - Christian Age. 

Willow Bank. 

^ Or, Only a Week. New Edition. 

Small 8vo. Cloth. Is. 6d. 

The Old House on Briar Hill. 

By I. G. MEREDITH. A real girl's 
Book. Illustrated. 3s. 6d. 
"Full of bright, wise precepts, veiled 
under a pleasant guise of story-telling. A 
charming work." Christian World. 

Nellie's Secret ; 

Or, Brown's Alley and Sunnyside. By 
M. M. POLLARD, Author of "Only Me," 
&c. 2s. 6d. 
" Will make an excellent Sunday-school 

prize, and be read with eager interest." 


His Grandchild. 

A Tale of North Harbour. By M. M. 

POLLARD, Author of "Nellie's Secret." 

Small 8vo. Illustrated. Cloth. 2s. 6d. 

" A wholesome and interesting story, at 

once pleasant and profitable to read." 




Little Cousins: 

Or, Georgie's Visit to Lotty. With Illustrations by T. PYM. Square cloth, 3s. 6d. 
" The illustrations are pretty, and add much to the attractiveness of the book, which is 
one sure to satisfy any little girl to whom it may be given. Aihenceum. 

Victoria-Bess ; 

Or, The Ups and Downs of a Doll's Life. With 25 Illustrations by T. PYM. Square, 
cloth extra. 3s. 6d. 

" A charming little book for little girls, told with just a touch of humour and abundance 
of gentle pathos." Literary World. 

Lotty's Visit to Grand mama : 

A Story for the Little Ones. With 
Fifty Illustrations. By W. J. PETHE- 
RICK. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d. 

"A very delightful story too. . . . We 
have seldom read a more sprightly or 
naturally told tale for the little ones. The 
illustrations are excellent." The Christian. 

"An admirable book for little people. . 
We most cordially recommend parents and 
others on the look-out for the replenishment 
of the children's book-shelf to get this." 
Literary World. 

Froggy's Little Brother. 

A Story of the East-End. With Eight 
Illustrations by " CAS." New Edition. 
Crown 8vo, cloth extra. 3s. 6d. 

" Plenty of original merit ; we wish to give 
it our very best word.'' Times. 

" Has an individuality and beauty of its 
own which makes it very pathetic and yet 
comical reading. Guardian. 

A Saturday's Bairn. 

Crown 8vo, with Illustrations. &8. 

"A story which interests from the very 
first page." Echo. 

" A charming tale, over which tears and 
smiles contend." Christian World. 

"An excellent and most interesting tale." 
A unt Judy's Magazine. 

Nothing to Nobody. 

New Edition, small 8vo. Illustrated. 
2s. 6d. 

"Quite worthy of comparison with 
'Jessica's First Prayer' and ' Little Meg.'" 

" A very pretty story, and will serve as a 
gift-book, either for rich children or poor. 
Both will find something to interest them." 
A thenceum. 

Especially Those. 

A Story on the Prayer " For all Con- 
ditions of Men." With Illustrations 
by "CAS." Small 8vo, cloth extra. 
Is. 6d. 


Cales of nglfel) life tn t&e teen Ct'me, 


Ilhistration reduced by Photography. 


A Story of the Mission of Augustine. 8s. 

" Illustrates with equal beauty and fidelity 
the characteristics of an eventful period of 
our history." Record. 

Lettice Eden; 

Or, The Lamps of Earth and the Light 
of Heaven. Crown 8vo, cloth, Bs. 
"We promise its readers a rare literary 
feast." The Christian. 

Clare Avery. 

A Story of the Spanish Armada. 3s. 
"An admirable story, full of life and 
vigour." The Rock. 

The White Rose of Langley. 

A Story of the Court of England in the 
Olden Time. Bs. 

"An admirable, instructive, and very in- 
teresting volume." English Independent. 

Robin Tremayne. 

A Tale of the Marian Persecution. Bs. 
"The book is extremely well written." 
A thenceunt. 

Verena ; 

Or, Safe Paths and Slippery Byeways. 
A Story of To-day. Bs. 
" The book is well written, and the cha- 
racters are all well drawn." A thenceunt. 

For the Master's Sake. 

A Tale of the Days of Queen Mary. Small 8vo. 
" A work of thrilling interest." Rock. 

Isoult Barry of Wynscote. 

A Tale of Tudor Times. 3s. 

" The book is as charming as it is profit- 
able." The Christian. 

Ashcliffe Hall. 

A Tale of the Last Century. 8s. 
"A remarkable example of a really good 
religious tale." English Independent. 

Sister Rose ; 

Or, The Eve of St. Bartholomew. New 
Edition. Bs. 

"The story is well conceived, and well 
written." Literary World. 

Mistress Margery. 

A Tale of the Lollards. 3s. 6d. 
" A page in history which our young men 
and maidens will do well to saturate with 
holy tears." The Sword and the Trowel. 

The Well in the Desert. 

An Old Legend of the House of Arundel. 

2s. 6d. 

"A Tale of the Middle Ages, showing 
that there were beautiful gleams of light in 
those dark days even. It is a touching 
story." Watchman. 

Illustrated. Cloth. 2s. 6d. 

" Capital stories for thoughtful young readers." Literary World. 

Caies of (ZEnglis!) Life in tije )ltien Cime* 


Margery's Son ; 

Or, Until He Find it. A Fifteenth Century Tale of the Court of Scotland. Crown 
8vo. Ss. 

"Carefully studied and well written. The story is admirably told." British Quarterly 

Earl Hubert's Daughter; 

Or, The Polishing of the Pearl. Crown 8vo, 5s. 

Lady Sybil's Choice: 

A Tale of the Crusades. Crown 8vo, with Frontispiece, Ss. 

" The book charms from the naive simplicity of the heroine and from the skill with which 
the authoress has preserved the spirit of the age." The Graphic. 

"We wish these volumes could be placed in every Sunday School Library and every 
Protestant home. It would be a good thing for the sons and daughters of England to become 
acquainted with such reading as we find in the writings of this gifted authoress. "Evening 

The Maiden's Lodge ; 

Or, None of Self, and All of Thee. A Tale of the Reign of Queen Anne. Crown 8vo, 
3s. 6d. 

"A beautiful illustration of self-surrender, thoroughly interesting and well- written." 
Word and Work. 


Storieg toitf) a 

Jean Lindsay, the Vicar's Daughter. 

By EMILY BRODIE. With Illustrations Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
" The tale is admirably told." Bookseller. 

Elsie Gordon ; 

Or, Through Thorny Paths. 

Author of " Jean Lindsay," &c. 

Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 

% The Hamiltons ; 

Or, Dora's Choice. 

By EMILY BRODIE, Author of 
"Jean Lindsay." 

Crown 8vo, Illustrated, cloth. 
3s. 6d. 

" A book that young people- 
may read with interest and ad- 
vantage. " A thentzum. 


A Story with a Happy Ending. By A. T. WINTHROP. Crown 8vo, 3s. 6d. 

Fighting the Foe; 

Or, Every-Day Battles. By FIDELITE". New Edition, Crown 8vo, with Illustrations. 8s. 
" A clever combination of narrative and allegory." Churchman's Magazine. 

The Home of Fiesole. 

Or, The Martyr of Florence. By the Author of " Children of Seeligsberg." Crown 

8vo, cloth. 8s. 

"Prettily and carefully written, and quite to be recommended as reading for young 
girls at that age when they thoroughly enjoy any historical tale not over-weighted with 
information. " Guardian. 

The Lost Jewel. 

A Tale. By A. L. O. E. New Edition, with Illustrations. 3s. 6d. 
"Most earnestly do we recommend our readers to place 'The Lost Jewel' in their 
libraries." British Mothers Journal. 


g>torte0 totti) a 

The Gabled Farm; 

Or, Young Workers for the King. By C. S. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
" A charming story. " Evangelical Magazine. 

In the Sunlight 
and Out of It. 

A Year of my Life-story. 

By C. S., Author of "Nellie 
Arundel," &c. 

Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 

Nellie Arundel. 

A Tale of Home Life. 

By C. S., Author of "The Gabled 

Crown 8vo, illustrated, cloth. 
3s. 6d. 

" Cleverly written and healthy 
in tone, the story is one calculated 
to do not a little good.'' Literary 

By the Author of the " Spanish Brothers," " Under the Southern Cross." 

In the Desert. 

A Stoiy of the Church under the Cross. Crown 8vo, cloth. 3s. ,6d. 

In the City. 

A Story of Old Paris. Crown 8vo, cloth. 3s. 6d. 

Marcella of Rome. 

A Tale of the Early Church. By F. EASTWOOD. Small post 8vo. 3s. 6d. 

" A powerfully-written tale. No Christian, we think, will read it without receiving a fresh 
impetus to faith, hope, and love." The Christian. 

Aunt Hester, and why we Loved Her. 

A Story of Rosebrook. Crown 8vo, cloth. 3s. 6d. 

" This charmingly fresh and original story." Literary World. ' 


tones b 1U 

David's Little Lad. 

New Edition. Illustrated 3s. 6d 

' Suddenly the 
strange miner sprang 
to the front and called 
out in a deep voice, 
* I'm going on, tho' 
'tis death. Shut the 
doors upon me, and 
I'll cut the passage 

" ' I'll go for another, 
and I, and I,' said 
many." See " David's 
Little Lad" page 2 1 1 . 

" A finely imagined 
story, bringing out in 
grand relief the con- 
trast bet-ween quiet, 
steady self-sacrifice and 
brilliant flashy quali- 
ties.'" Guardian. 

Scamp and I. 

A Story of City Byeways. New Edition, 

with Illustrations, cloth extra. 3s. 6d. 

"All as true to life and as touchingly set 

forth as any heart could desire, beguiling 

the reader into smiles and tears, and into 

sympathy with them all." A themeum. 

Lettie's Last Home. 

Cloth extra. With II lustrations. Is. 6d. 
"The details of Lettie's devotion to her 
baby-charge are very touchingly told, and 
may perhaps help to make the tale as 
popular with elder readers as many of 
Hesba Stretton's records of London life 
are." Aunt Judy s Magazine. 

Your Brother and Mine. 

A Cry from the Great City. Illustrated. 
2s. 6d. 

"A story of intense power and pathos, 
sketching the career of one of the little waifs 
and strays of our great cities, and his rescue, 
by the loving effort of a little child, after sad 
experiences of the neglect and indifference 
too often manifested." 

White Lilies. 

And other Stories. Small 8vo. With 
Illustrations. Is. 6d. 
" Stories of a singularly touching and 
beautiful character." Rock. 




New Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 

" Most interesting ; we give it our hearty commendation." English Independent. 

Water Gipsies. 

A Tale. 

With Illustrations. 
Crown 8vo, cloth. 3s. 6d. 

" It is a long time since we 
have read so impressive and 
touching story. We accord 
it our warmest praise." Lite- 
rary World. 

Dot and her 

A Tale. 

With Illustrations. 
Cloth. 2s. 6d. 

" One of the tales of poor 
children in London, of which 
we have had many examples; 
but none finer, more pathetic, 
or more original than this." 

A Knight of To-day. 

New Edition. By L. T. MEADK, Author of "Great St. Benedict's." With Illus- 

trations. 6s. 

" Shows much insight into human character, and ful^ recognition of the noble possibilities 
which underlie life amid the most sordid surroundings." Athenceum. 
" Told with much skill and tenderness." Scotsman. 

Great St. Benedict's. 

A Tale. By L. T. MEADK. New Edition, crown 8vo. With Illustrations. 6s. 

" ' Great St. Benedict's,' from the first page to the last, reads more like truth than fiction ; 
and very interesting it is throughout. The characters are well drawn. The gradual growth 
growth and development of the character and noble nature of Dorothy Shelly is well 
worked out." Athenaum. 

" The description of Dorothy's life is excellent" Spectator. 

The Children's Kingdom ; 

Or, The Story of a Great Endeavour. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo, cloth. Bs. 
*' A really well-written tale, true to life, with many touching passages. Boys and girls 
will read it with eagerness and profit." The Churchman. 


torieg for 

The House in the Glen. 

And the Boys who Built it. New Edition. Illustrated. 3s. 6d. 
" Exactly what boys like." The Guardian. 


The Boy's Watchword ; 

Or, The Story of the Old Back Room. 
3s. 6d. New Edition. Illustrated. 

" An excellent story, and full of beautiful 
teaching. " A thenaum. 

Marty and the Mite-Boxes ; 

Or, Boy Life and Boy Work. Illus- 
trated. 3s. 6d. 

" A capital book for boys the style taking, 
and the whole teaching thoroughly whole- 
some.' Watchman. 

Paul Thurston and his Little 

Boots. New Edition. Illustrated. 
3s. 6d. 

"Will delight hundreds of boys." Book- 


A Chapter in a Boy's Life. 

Author of "Pickles," &c. 

Crown 8vo. With Illustrations 
by PETHERICK. 3s. 

Prairie Days; 

Or, Our Home in the Far West. 


With Illustrations. 

Crown 8vo, cloth. 8s. 

" Parents will find this a capital 
book to read to the children 
when assembled round during the 
long winter evenings." Literary 


Silverdale Rectory; 

Or, The Golden Links. With Illustra- 
tions. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 
"We can heartily recommend this story. 
It shows how the beautiful words in our 
morning and evening service may help us if 
we only realise them and make them our 
own." Church of England Sunday School 

Brave Geordie. 

The Story of an English Boy. With 

Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. 

" It is refreshing to meet with such a 

spirited and thoroughly good story." The 


The Earl-Printer. 

A Tale of the Time of Caxton. By 
C. M. M. With Illustrations. 2s. 6d. 
" The story is nicely told, and will greatly 
please juvenile readers." Irish Times. 



Lady Betty's Governess ; 

Or, The Corbet Chronicles. By L. E. GUERNSEY. Crown 8vo. Cloth. 8s. 

" An unusually successful attempt to reproduce the manners of the seventeenth century. 
The book, which is well and simply written, will give pleasure to its readers." Saturday 

The Chevalier's 

By L. E. GUERNSEY, Author of 
" Lady Rosamond," &c. 

Crown 8vo. Ss. 

} Lady Rosamond's 
\ Book; 

Or, Dawnings of Light. 

Crown 8vo, cloth. 8s. 

"A well-told story, written in quaint 
old-time style, the plot interesting and 
well sustained, and the tone good." 
Leeds Mercury. 


An English Maiden of the Seventeenth Century. By L. E. G. Illustrated. Crown 
8vo. 3s. 6d. 

" An admirably told story of a brave little Puritan maiden." English Independent, 
" A truly delightful story, drawn to the life." Leeds Mercury. 

The Odd One; 

Or, The Niche for me to Fill. 3s. 6d. 

"This story has pleased us much. It may be very serviceable to a young girl, and will 
certainly be read with pleasure." English Independent. 

Elsie's Santa Glaus. 

With Illustrations. Cloth extra. 3s. 0d. 
"A charming Christmas story." English Independent. 


Stories for tfje little 


A Funny Little Couple. By YOTTV OSBORN, Author of " Two Little Turks." With 
Twenty-one Illustrations. Square. Cloth. Be. 6d 


Or, Only a Little Girl. By YOTTV OSBORN. Square, cloth, 3s. 6d. 
"A capital book, delightfully illustrated ; altogether one that can be J 

recommended. " 

" ' I know ! ' cried Johnnie ; 'you shall give the bread, and I'll keep watch for Richard. 
I'll listen, and if we hear him we'll hide. I'll listen like the Indians do, like what we read 
in the book. '" See " Pickles," p. 52. 

" A sparkling volume for children, the exquisite outline engravings, illustrative of child 
life, being alone worth the price of the book." The Baptist. 


The Beehive. 

Two Little Turks; 

Or, Getting into Mischief. Small 8vo. Fully Illustrated. Cloth. 2s. 6d. 
" Is perfect in its way for very little people." Evangelical Magazine.. 
*' Records for very young children, who will thoroughly appreciate them, the adventures 
and misadventures of a brother and sister." Hand and Heart. 

"Worth a Threepenny Bit;" 

Or, General Weissel's Grandchildren. By YVONNE. Cloth, 2s. 6d. 
" Told with a freshness and reality not unworthy of Miss Edgeworth. We have not for a 
long time read anything so bright and sparkling." Guardian. 






The Young Armour- Bearer; 

Or, Chosen to be a Soldier. With Illustrations. Cloth. Is. 6d. 

On the Door Steps ; 

Or, Crispin's Story. By Mrs. 

" Keeping Open House." 

By MARY W. McLAiN. Small 
8vo, cloth. 

|j: Old David's Lassie. 

Or, Lost and Found. Fcap. 8vo. 


Little Trouble the House. 


" Those Boys." 

A Story for all Little Fellows. 

"Books the 'little fellows' will 


Left at Home ; 

Or, The Heart's True Resting-place. 

Wandering May; 

Or, Come unto Me. 

Clarie's Little Charge. 

New Edition. 

The Happy Land ; 

Or, Willie the Orphan. 
" Not only are they suitable for presents, 
but a blessing may be expected to rest upon 
the truth, so lovingly expounded as it is in 
these stories." The Christian. 

May Lane ; 

Or, Love and Duty. By C. M. 
" An invaluable little book for the young." 
Daily Excess. 

Tom Carter ; 

Or, Ups and Downs in Life. 

Charlie and Lucy ; 

Or, The Lonely Heart made Glad. 
" We strongly recommend it as a gift-book 
for children." The Christian. 


Polly and Winnie ; 

Or, The Story of the Good Samaritan. 

Little Nan ; 

Or, A Living Remembrance. 

" Full of wide and useful teaching- 
written with a purpose, and well written."- 
Sunday School Teachers' Magazine. 

Harold ; 

Or, Following the Footprints. 

Astray and at Home ; 

Or, Little Mollie and her Brother. 

Tom Knight ; 

Or, True Honour from God only. 

Pop and Peggy ; 

Or, How Tom was Rescued. Is. 6d. 

" Too pretty a book to be left unnoticed. ' 


S>untiag$ for tfje Eittle flDnes, 

Scripture Picture Puzzles. 

By A. L. O. E. Ten different series. 
In Improved Boxes, each, Is. 6d. 

Each Box contains Four Picture Puzzles, 
and is complete in itself. 

Scripture Questioning Cards. 

Parts, each Is. 6d. 

Scripture Acrostics. 

By LADY SCOTT. Price Is. 6d. 


jFatoourite unDag 'Boofe& 

Gospel Pictures. 

From Old Testament Story. By A. L. O. E. New Edition, with Plain and Coloured' 
Illustrations. 3s. 6d. 

The Old Picture Bible; 

Or, Stories from the Life of Christ. 3s. 6d. 

The Old Picture Bible; 

Or, Stories from Old Testament History. 3s. 6d. 

Each volume Illustrated with Plain Engravings and Coloured Plates. Small 410. 
*** Some of the most attractive of the many Sunday books for Children. 

The two last Volumes may also be had in Sixpenny Parts, each complete in itself? 
and forming a pretty present for a Little One. 

Dne fulling present 

In attractive Bindings. Good Type. Well Illustrated. 

Thady March ; 

Or, The Story of my Boyhood. With 
Eight Full-page Illustrations. Is. 

"A capital little story." English Inde- 


Or, Trying to Follow. ByL. E. D. Is. 

"A pleasing story well worked out. 
Decidedly good." The Rock. 

Little Orangees ; 

Or, A Friend for the Friendless. By 
J. HARRISON, Author of " Boy's Watch- 
word," &c. Is. 

"A pretty Sunday-school story." 

Lonely Lily. 

New Edition. By M. L. C. Is. 
" Our boys, like most others, are not fond^ 
of dry books, but this they devoured greedily, 
and gave it their highest praise." The Sword 
and the Trowel. 

Twice Found ; 

Or, The Heavenly and Earthly Father. 

Lucy's Life Story ; 

Or, Sunshine Without and Within. Is. 

We Got Agate of Singing ; 

Or, "Jesus, Tender Shepherd, hear 
me." Is. 

" Full of pathos and quiet power." Sun- 
day School Teachers' Magazine. 


torieg about Animate, 

Rough the Terrier. 

His Life and Adventures. By EMILY BRODIE. With Illustrations by T. PVM. Square, 
cloth. 2s. 6d. 

" Told agreeably and simply, and the illustrations show a considerable experience of dog- 
ways.' ' Standard. 

" A pleasant story that cannot fail to satisfy the little ones." Watchman. 

Little Folks in Feathers and Fur, 

And Others in Neither. By OLIVE THORNE MILLER. With nearly 200 Illustrations. 
Handsomely bound in cloth, gilt edges. Price 7s. 6d. 

" To begin with, dear unknown Reader, this book makes no pretensions to a scientific 
work. Indeed, it is scrupulously otherwise. It is merely a collection of sketches, telling 
what is interesting to know about a few of the millions of creatures that live on our globe. 
It is written for little people, but will not be without interest to any one who is curious 
about the ways of our little neighbours." Extract from Preface. 

" A charming book, which, in attractiveness for little folks, will vie successfully with 
many a collection of fairy tales." English Independent. 

" Enough to make human little folks ardent naturalists to the end of their days." 
The Christian. 

Queer Pets : 

Their Sayings and Doings. 
Feathers and Fur. 

By OLIVE THORNE MILLER, Author of " Little Folks in 
Fully Illustrated. 410, cloth extra. 7s. 6d. 


torie0 for tfje little 

SQUARE. 2s. 6d. EACH. 



&fje ^tofcentures of jJFreto anfc IBollg fcg OTootJ anto OTafce, 

" A book for every child's heart ; it should be sold by thousands." Christian World. 
" A capital story for children." Daily Review. 



" The story is exceedingly diverting, and the pictures are admirably drawn." 

Court Journal 


Square cloth. 

%* For J. F. S. <S Cots Religious and General Publications, which are 
kept by all Booksellers, see full Catalogue, sent post free on application to